Dec. 1st.

My Dear Colvin, — Another grimy little odd and end of paper, for which you shall be this month repaid in kind, and serve you jolly well right . . . The new house is roofed; it will be a braw house, and what is better, I have my yearly bill in, and I find I can pay for it. For all which mercies, etc. I must have made close on 4,000 pounds this year all told; but, what is not so pleasant, I seem to have come near to spending them. I have been in great alarm, with this new house on the cards, all summer, and came very near to taking in sail, but I live here so entirely¹ on credit, that I determined² to hang on.

Dec. 1st.

I was saying yesterday that my life was strange and did not think how well I spoke³. Yesterday evening I was briefed to defend a political prisoner before the Deputy Commissioner⁴. What do you think of that for a vicissitude⁵?

Dec. 3rd.

Now for a confession⁶. When I heard you and Cassells had decided⁷ to print The Bottle Imp⁸ along with Falesa, I was too much disappointed to answer. The Bottle Imp was the Piece de Resistance for my volume, Island Nights’ Entertainments. However, that volume might have never got done; and I send you two others in case they should be in time.

First have the Beach of Falesa.

Then a fresh false title: Island Nights’ Entertainments; and then

The Bottle Imp: a cue from an old melodrama⁹.

The Isle¹⁰ of Voices.

The Waif Woman; a cue from a

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